


Burned into Your Very Aether

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: "You" is a bottom oops, Ardbert-flavored Elidibus, Gender-ambiguous Warrior of Light - Freeform, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, POV Second Person, Quasi-threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: I can't stop thinking about a particular line from the 5.3 trailer...It'll never happen like this, but this is what I want, so I decided to write it.
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Burned into Your Very Aether

**Author's Note:**

> We've never had the Echo spark of an Ascian... you ever wonder why? I have.
> 
> This is consentual, but the Warrior of Light is a bit out of it here, so if non-explicit consent isn't your thing give this one a miss!

"Excellent… I had inttenddeded toto speeakak wiwithth youyou alonealone." 

You reel, head spinning,  _ throbbing _ from the force of the Echo lighting through your blood, sparking down your neurons, overwhelming you. Your hands flail into the sudden darkness born of dizziness, of faltering consciousness, seeking in desperation for balance, for a hold that might keep you from falling.

You encounter nothing, and tip.

But by some miracle you do not fall. Arms catch you— _ Elidibus? _ surely not—and support you. And another set. Groaning, you struggle your eyes open, fighting past the vise squeezing your brain to see.

It's Ardbert. Warm blue eyes peer into your own with concern, and you drag in a harsh breath, shaking your head, shaking and shaking it. It cannot be; you yet feel him within your soul. It  _ must _ be Elidibus. But— 

You crane as far around as you can. White robes, chased in gold… nay, it seems Elidibus is behind you. Then— 

His voice surrounds you, engulfs you fore and aft as he speaks. “Ah, Warrior of Darkness…” Mortal tones speak serious, but the Echo of polyphonic multiplicity sings discordant irony, the title spoken in mockery—and by the humor in the swelling sound he knows you know. “How you struggle, how you  _ refuse. _ So strong in the gift…” Ardbert’s lips, never more than a shade curved, turn flat. “But I must entreat you not to. There is something you must see.”

Again you shake your head, mute from the pressure inside your skull. Your already spinning head cannot take it; your sense of balance wobbles, tilting until you feel yourself falling once more in the featureless dark. But shifting feet find the ground awry, not where you had expected; the arms about you tighten and a soft grunt slips from Ardbert. Elidibus. You curse, the word an incomprehensible slurred mess, finding yourself still upright despite what your abused sense of balance would claim. Knees weak, you cling to his shoulders for stability.

A sigh surrounds you as he rearranges you to nearly hang from his neck. “In this sole matter, you may trust me. Open yourself to me…”

Tears gathering in your eyes, you let your head fall.  _ Trust… _ A part of you whispers that perhaps it will make the pain stop. Certainly pressing your forehead into the cool of his shoulder has brought it back a measure. With a groan you lean your weight into him, limp arms gripping weakly as your chest presses all against his. He shifts a step as he adjusts to the changing weight, then sighs.

You moan relief as the pressure slowly evaporates, going boneless in his grip. A hand creeps along your jaw, and you see golden claws appear in your peripheral vision, along your chin, though they do not brush your flesh. Your head is lifted until you gaze once more into Ardbert’s eyes. Elidibus’s. You rein in on the impulse to shake your head once more.

“Well I understand your hesitation, of course. But you must needs allow me entrance. You did claim, did you not, to seek to remember the Ancients?”

Eyes huge, staring into that blue gaze, you start to nod. Stop yourself. Words catch in your throat, snarling together into a tangle. You swallow hard and nod. Of course you want—need—to remember them; you could not live with yourself if you forgot.

He smiles.

The pain’s absence is a potent mercy; though your head still feels heavy and unbalanced, you feel your verve returning. Your determination. Arms tightening about his neck, pulling, you crane up and plant your mouth over his.

It seems this is not what he expected; four hands clench upon you, and he gives a surprised “hmmph?” But your sudden faltering confidence dies as those hands move, the embrace tightening, pinning you between him. Your mouth opens on a moan, and his answer is a probing tongue, a slick, hot invasion beneath which you once again fall weak. But he is also behind you, and you do not fall.

Harsh pants of breath swell in your ear as the kiss deepens, draws on, as you lose all sense of direction, naught mattering save the taste you crave  _ more _ of, the sensation of his lips upon yours, the soft hitches and groans he gives as you cling and  _ press. _ He draws back, blue eyes  _ burning, _ and hands begin to steal over your form, loosening buckles and ties and slipping your clothing loose, layer by layer. The night’s cool air makes you shiver, tuck closer to Ardbert. Elidibus.

As he holds you now only from behind, armored hands dropping to his own outfit to begin loosening and shucking it, you reach out. Still dizzy, you catch upon plates of metal, planes of leather, helping to pry them off or hold them aside so he may catch the clasps and release them. As with your own outfit, not all makes it off before impatience swells; feet and arms remain covered when he once more seizes you and drags your body against his own.

Now skin to skin, you cry out hoarsely, your body arching at the intoxicating sensation. His lips again seek your own, one shaking hand cradling your face as he licks over your lower lip before delving once more inside. He sucks down your cry as still-gloved hands raise you from behind, parting your thighs and pressing you flush against his chest; the sensitive flesh at your thighs’ apex rubs over each tensed abdominal as you slowly slide down. The descent is controlled, achingly slow, needy hands steadying you as you descend.

The press of the head of his shaft at your entrance, so anticipated, still catches you by surprise; with a cry your head falls back, the seal of the kiss breaking and allowing you to pant for air. Ungentle thrusts burn into you, singing of desperation nearly as keenly as each sobbed breath. He presses you hard against metal-chased robes in his quest for ecstasy, and you cry out as one when he hilts within you.

It is his turn to go weak, as his head tips forward to press now to your shoulder. Hot breath tickles your skin and four hands clench and release, indicating some internal struggle. You bend your neck, tilt your chin, brushing a kiss over his cheek and stirring him. Now his eyes burn into yours with intent as he moves, scorching friction gliding sweetly in and out, in and out. Lips chase up the side of your neck, and when teeth catch your earlobe you gasp and shiver.

Elidibus clings to himself, pressing you between his forms with each thrust, making each gasp of pleasure you give percussive, fierce. He shifts, braces, and his mouth paints heat down your shoulder, your collarbone. His lips seal about your nipple, wringing an extra breathy cry from you. Each breath now comes with a soft mewl as pleasure grips you in binding and turning coils, wringing you tight, twisting you in his doubled grasp. Your head, cleared by the sharp pleasure, begins to swim again as he kisses you, sweet and heated.

“Surrender now to me, Warrior… Give in. I will not let you fall.”

The dual assault of lips and voice sends your eyes rolling back into your head; gentle teeth on your lower lip prevent your head from falling, but a moan escapes all the same. Elidibus speeds up the pace, growling against your mouth as he licks in once more to consume you. A hand trails over your hip from behind, metal cooling your skin in careful pricks as his fingers dance down toward your sex and gently smooth over your over-sensitive flesh. You cry out as he slicks your juices over you and begins working you in an all-too-careful rhythm. With a pleading sob, you buck into his touch; a chuckle rings through you as he accedes to your need, stroking you now faster, harder. Tremors seize your muscles, making your fingers twitch and jerk, your joints spasm, as pleasure wrings you out, as you shudder and clench and peak.

A mortal voice cries ecstasy into your shoulder as he pulses within you, muscled form arching and trembling with the strain of controlling those last few thrusts. All the while the polyphonic choir extols you softly, murmuring encouragement and praise. Those lips seal over yours as he shivers, managing somehow to keep his feet, to keep your collective balance. Slowly the gloved hand releases your sex, lifting up behind your ear, and a soft “mmm” announces Elidibus’s enjoyment of your leavings. Winded, still dizzy, you recline against those robes, pressed tight between Elidibus. When the hand returns, damp gloves carefully turn your chin, turning your head so he may have another taste of you. He releases you with a sigh and a smirk.

“Now, Warrior of Darkness, kindly permit me to guide your Echo.”

What? What was he trying to do?

He sees your hesitation, and his smile gentles a fraction. “You have trusted me this far, have you not? You need but trust a bit further.” Even as he speaks the discomfort begins to ramp up once more, the vise on your mind increasing in pressure. It mirrors, almost, the way your body is caught between his, sparking a humorous thought which is soon squeezed flat, gone.

“You surrender your body to me, but you will not trust me with your mind?” He gives a soft “tch.” “You must choose, Warrior. Either tap Her strength and cast me off…” He leans closer, and gooseflesh washes down your neck, your shoulders to your chest as his voice drops. “Or permit me entry.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to understand, to  _ focus. _ Brightness calls from somewhere nearby, but creeping tendrils of dark also beckon, slipping about your wrist here, tugging, drawing you away from the light. Almost you glance back at it, but intuition halts you, the fear that you will again become fascinated with it should you behold it once more. With a deep sigh you clasp the tendrils and open your eyes. The darkness, already absolute about you, encroaches, winding tighter and swallowing Ardbert—Elidibus—bit by bit. Within a few moments you can see nothing but those bright eyes, and even they are consumed by darkness as your vision fades to nothing.

“Excellent.”


End file.
